


Burnt

by DictionaryWrites



Category: James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Burns, Scars, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1238569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the 007kinkmeme. Bond finds that Q has tattoos, but also some old scars beneath them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burnt

For Bond, the ink was merely a surprise. Q was so terribly proper, after all, with his carefully groomed hair and stubble, with his utterly perfect shirts buttoned correctly and neatly. And then his cardigans, his ties with their tie pins, tight trousers with their patterns and black shoes all-shined.

Q was not the sort of man one expected to be tattooed.

When Bond saw them for the first time, Q had just exited his shower, water glistening still on his skin. He wore only a pair of pyjama bottoms and his glasses; on a dissatisfying level, Q did not seem at all surprised.

For several moments, he regarded Bond, slouched comfortably with a cup of coffee on Q’s sofa. It was a little past five AM, but alas, he had not come early enough to witness the Quartermaster sleeping.

“Comfortable?” Q asked, and Bond grinned.

“Quite.” And Q had nodded, turning around to take the water Bond had boiled for his coffee, setting about making himself a cup of tea. And his  _ **back**_ , good God, was that a sight to behold.

“Ink.” Bond had said under his breath, staring with his eyes wide, lips parted, tongue pressed against his teeth in a silent sigh. He’d always liked seeing ink on flesh, but seeing it on  _Q_ 's pale back - it was something arresting. 

“Tattoos aren’t new to you, I should hope. You’re an old man - I would hope you’d be used to them.” Q’s tone was conversational, but Bond was well-used to the younger man’s ribbing by now.

“Old man, am I? That’s nice, coming from a teenager.” Q chuckled, sipping at the steaming drink with no care for how hot it was.

A map made up the main part, black creating line upon line of borders, cities, island outlines. Britain, in all her glory, with islands too, though neither Ireland showed. About the map were other things - a moth, a falcon, a pocket watch.

“For Queen and country, then.” Bond commented.

“Indeed.” Q agreed, moving closer and settling beside Bond to sit there.

“And the little icons? The animals? The infinity symbol? The pocketwatch?”

“It’s not a pocketwatch, you imbecile.” Q said, but in his drowsy state he seemed fond and gentler than he was usually, and Bond found he rather liked it. He turned, showing the watch better on his shoulderblade: Bond noticed the carefully inked symbols about the rim in place of numbers. “It’s an Alethiometer.”

“What’s that?” Bond’s question came with a small frown, and Q laughed.

 “It’s in a book. Three books - I’ll lend them to you.” Bond continued to look, brow furrowing a little as he peered at the flesh beneath the tattooed skin.

 “Are those burns?” He asked, and very slowly he reached out. Q made no move to stop him, but when Bond’s fingers stroked over the rough flesh he let out a quiet noise and a shudder. “Burns.” He confirmed to himself, gentling the touch on the marred flesh before he carefully drew his hand away - on some level, he found himself surprised that Q trusted him enough to let him touch.

 “A housefire. Nothing to worry one’s self with.” Q said quietly, finishing his cup and setting it aside. He looked thoughtful for a few moments, rubbing the back of his hand, and then he stood. “I should hope this means you’ll be my chauffeur for today, then.”

“Brought my special hat and everything.” Bond said lightly enough, letting the manner slip as the other man pleased.

“Oh, good on you. I thought I’d have to lend you mine.” Bond laughed a little, dropping back in his chair again as he waited for Q to return again. His prank hadn’t been a success, but the sight of pretty Q, sans shirt with mussed hair, had certainly made the visitation worth it.

 He considered, for a few moments, the value in attempting to find the files in whatever fire had scarred Q’s back, but he knew they wouldn’t be easy to grasp.

He hadn’t even discovered the other man’s name yet, let alone any bad childhood memories - Q was far too good to allow him that.

“Shall we go?” Bond looked up, watching Q, now clothed and made neat. Bond stood with a nod, banishing all thought of the other’s childhood or adulthood - for now, at least.

“Of course.”


End file.
